


The Ballad of Godric's Keep

by Serene, starduchess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Collaboration, Community: pod-together, Doomed Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Slash, POV Male Character, Podfic, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Sonnets, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serene/pseuds/Serene, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/pseuds/starduchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snarry hurt/comfort told in twelve sonnets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Godric's Keep

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative effort made for the Pod-Together challenge in 2013. Serene is the writer and StarDuchess is the reader/podficcer.
> 
> Takes place during Book 7, so Harry is seventeen.

00:11:01

[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/The%20Ballad%20of%20Godric%27s%20Keep-starduchess,%20serene.mp3)

[M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/The%20Ballad%20of%20Godrics%20Keep-starduchess,%20serene.m4b)

  


**The Ballad of Godric's Keep**

I.

The Boy Who Lived had managed it again,  
but barely--Harry lay in bed alone.  
He didn't know whose cabin he was in  
or who had dressed him in a linen gown.

He tried to lift his head, but gave it up.  
The motion made a ringing in his ear.  
He sipped some water from a green-glass cup  
and drifted back to sleep, too tired for fear.

At least three days and nights he lingered there.  
He slept in fits; the fever came and went.  
Sometimes he thought he felt another near,  
but sleep returned, and consciousness was spent.

A hooded man watched closely, set his arm,  
And quietly kept Potter safe from harm.

 

II.

In dreams, the hooded man rode north and south;  
on waking, Harry found himself alone.  
He once, half-conscious, heard a startled oath.  
The hooded man was real, and hadn't known

that Harry was aware enough to hear  
his vexed outburst on spilling lizard blood--  
his potion nearly failed. His mortal fear  
for Harry's safety made him curse aloud.

One morning, Harry's head began to clear.  
The room was still so dark he couldn't see;  
so feigning sleep, he strained so he he could hear  
the hooded man, and tell who it might be.

Frustrated, Harry cried out, "Who is there?!?"  
His question hung upon the empty air.

 

III.

For days it went like this, and Harry thought  
that if an enemy had wished him dead,  
he could have done it while he slept, and not  
prolonged it over time. He shook his head.

"No, Harry, keep your wits," he mumbled then.  
"He may not want you dead, but what if he  
is only waiting 'til you wake again  
to torture you--to see if he can see

what things you know? What secrets you can tell?  
Who is this man? What pain will he employ?"  
Then came one, sharp laugh ringing like a bell,  
and soft, half whispered, "Quiet, stupid boy."

The man bent over him and touched his arm;  
at once, he knew that no one meant him harm.

 

IV.

As Harry, silent, stared at him agape,  
the hooded man was sneering in the dim.  
This man he dare not trust--Severus Snape?  
His benefactor? Was this really him?

The days went by in silence and great length.  
His questions all unanswered, Harry found  
he slowly gained abilities and strength,  
and Snape came daily with his eyes cast down. 

One night, he asked for Snape to let him leave.  
"No one will stop you, boy," he said, stone-faced.  
Then Harry said, "I can't let friends believe  
I'm dead, when really I'm here in this place."

Snape caught his gaze with steely eyes of black,  
then turned and left, and he did not look back.

 

V.

Soon Harry felt that Snape had gone for good;  
no longer did Snape slink across the floor.  
Quite slowly he regained his strength and could,  
by taking care, dress all his wounds, and more.

One day, he wept for nearly half an hour,  
self-pitying, and wishing he were home.  
His thoughts of Snape, too, had surprising power--  
why did he mind Snape leaving him alone?

In dreams, our Harry saw the ghosts of those  
whose lives had been cut short, and souls he loved  
in this life, too--Hermione's, and Cho's,  
and Ron's, of course. He grew so fearful of

their loss that, waking, he began to weep.  
He cried with longing, then collapsed in sleep.

 

VI.

A few days later, after Snape had gone,  
the boy decided to prepare to leave.  
He wasn't sure he'd make it all alone,  
but neither could he stay and sit and grieve.

Without his broom, without a map or wand,  
he didn't know how far he had to go.  
He packed his few small things, went to the pond  
for water, and breathed deep. He didn't know

why thoughts of Snape would not go from his brain--  
they trailed him up the path and through the door.  
Resolved to leave when day should dawn again,  
he took his thoughts to bed with him once more.

The dreams he had that night were dark and grim,  
but in them Snape was watching over him.

 

VII.

Next day, before the sun could warm the skies,  
young Harry changed his bandages and then  
picked up his pack and rubbed his weary eyes.  
He'd make it home, he thought, but who knew when?

For half a day, he walked and thought his thoughts.  
He headed west and hoped he'd reach a town.  
He tired quickly, hoped he wasn't lost,  
but kept a steady pace with his head down.

He came upon a keep on a small hill  
that looked like it was velveted in fog.  
Its beauty was both powerful and still;  
he thought he'd picnic on a rustic log.

But fate would not be kind to Harry now.  
He'd walked into a trap, not knowing how.

 

VIII.

Before he had the chance to even think,  
someone had tackled Harry from behind.  
He barely had a chance to look, then blink--  
No! Could it be? He thought he'd lost his mind.

The sight of the Death Eaters in the keep  
forced breath from Harry's lungs, as if a hand  
had pushed him from behind and into deep,  
cold water. Suddenly, his missing wand,

from out of nowhere, flew right through the air  
into his hand; he hadn't voiced a spell.  
He caught a glimpse of someone--yes, just there!--  
and gone again. Death Eaters rose and fell.

By Harry's wand, it's true, a few were killed.  
But someone was far swifter and more skilled.

 

IX.

You probably have guessed that it was Snape  
who'd levitated Harry's wand to him.  
He'd engineered their harrowing escape  
from certain death in twilight's chilly dim.

They sat upon the ground and caught their breath,  
and Harry saw his teacher in new light,  
while Snape was mumbling underneath his breath  
harsh words about the battle fought that night.

"It seems to be the story of my life,"  
he said, "to save you from your stupid self."  
This time, though, Harry felt no sting, no knife  
of pain--he'd thought the same himself.

He smiled at Snape and nodded and agreed.  
"You've been my guardian angel. Yes, indeed."

 

X.

That evening, as they sat around a fire,  
young Harry knew to wait and not to talk.  
He knew that Snape was taut-strung, like a wire.  
He thought it might be wise to take a walk.

As Harry rose to stretch his legs a while,  
he half-expected Snape to disappear  
as he had done before. But Snape just smiled,  
grabbed Harry's hand, and pulled to bring him near.

The force of his desire filled Harry's ears  
like rushing waters or a Quidditch win.  
He hadn't known such lust in all his years;  
he didn't even know how to begin.

As night went on, they moved in fierce, bright love  
with Snape's Protection Spell hov'ring above.

 

XI.

In fairy tales, the lovers now would go  
and be forever loved and never cry.  
But just for one sweet week, the two would show  
each other love and tenderness. I sigh

to tell you that they never found a way  
to talk about the love deep in their hearts.  
Each time The Boy Who Lived would try to say  
what he was feeling, something broke apart.

For Severus, to speak of love and lust  
was torment; it might rip his heart in two.  
So talking fell away, and Harry just  
decided he would do what he could do.

Their common sorrow and their common pain  
combined to make both men feel whole again.

 

XII.

Years later, when The Boy Who Lived would dream,  
that week with Snape would shine at center stage.  
No boggart nightmares ever made him scream  
no matter what he lived through as he aged.

When Snape had kissed the boy and held him near,  
some wound had healed; some love had made things right.  
So what had Harry left in life to fear?  
He'd died already, and been loved. The night

had no more demons to torment him with  
and no more power. Harry was a man.  
He'd found out Snape was flesh and blood, not myth,  
and not the fiend he'd thought when things began.

There must be some more stories here to tell.  
But we'll let Harry rest now. Wish him well.

**Author's Note:**

> Music is "Skellig" by Loreena McKennitt, _The Book of Secrets_ , 1997. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> StarDuchess: Thanks ever so much to my writer, who did a splendid job with the sonnets and in graciously accepting my critiques and comments of same. You were super easy and flexible to work with, and I hope everyone enjoys our combined efforts on this pod_together challenge. Thank you to the mods for making this run so smoothly.
> 
> Serene: This was my first attempt at doing anything like this, and StarDuchess was an earnest and conscientious critiquer; I'm really grateful for that. I only wish I'd had three times as much time to do the writing, because I feel the poems themselves would have been better, and the story more coherent. Still, I had a blast, and I thank everyone involved.


End file.
